


The Journal

by Doctorwhogirl13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, bblock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:16:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorwhogirl13/pseuds/Doctorwhogirl13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock makes a new friend and gains an enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Journal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impossiblyimprobable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblyimprobable/gifts).



“Give it back! That’s mine!!”

Sherlock looked up over the edge of his novel when he heard the shrill cries of distress over the square yard. He sighed heavily against the distraction, and returned to his place in the story. 

“This isn’t fair! I said give it back!”

Plop! Sherlock’s book was placed heavily on the cement stair next to where he was sitting. He could tell peace would not be restored until the disturbance was dealt with. Usually he did not involve himself in such petty matters, but he wanted to get back to his compelling piece which discussed quantum theory. A very interesting topic, he mused as he made his way to the source of the noise. 

It didn’t take long, as the yard was not that large to begin with, and the noise level made it easy to track the source. 

Rounding the corner of a small shed, Sherlock was faced with the problem at hand. One of the older boys, Sherlock recalled his name was Jim, was holding up a small, leather bound journal above his head while a boy in Sherlock’s year, John was trying to jump high enough to get it back. But it was easily observed that his efforts were futile as Jim was almost a head taller, and was keeping the journal out of reach with little effort. 

“I believe he asked you to give it back.” Sherlock said from his position behind Jim. Even though he was younger than the boy, he was tall for his age. So when Jim turned around to identify the source of the voice, they were standing eye to eye. 

“What did you say to me?” Jim bite back with obvious contempt in his tone. He was still holding the journal above his head, but John was too busy figuring out the motive of his apparent hero to continue jumping for it. 

“You heard me perfectly fine, unless you are partially deaf at the young age of 18. If that is the situation, my deepest apologies,” Sherlock placed his hand over his heart and did his best to look sympathetic. Sarcasm was something he had come to perfect over the years. He prided himself on his ability to use his intellect as a weapon. 

“Oh I heard you perfectly fine.” Jim responded with a smirk, “I was just making sure you wanted to go through with your idle threat.”

Sherlock moved closer to Jim, to where he could have kissed him if he wanted. “Oh trust me, nothing I do is idle. Now, I am going to tell you this once, and only once. Give John back his journal. Now.”

The arm holding the journal lowered a bit, and came to rest between Jim and Sherlock. 

“And what if I don’t.” Jim said moving even closer, John momentarily forgotten. 

Sherlock gave a small smirk and leaned to whisper in Jim’s ear. “Then I will be forced to play my hand and slip your secret.”

Jim scoffed. “Secret, I don’t have a secret. I’m an open book. Just like this one here.” Jim opened up the journal and began to read.”

Dear Diary, today I got picked on in school again. This big kid put my head in the toilet again. At least he didn’t throw me in the dumpster again. That was hard to explain to mum why I came home smelling so bad. I hate this place, and wish mum could move back home. But I can’t tell mum I want that, cause then she would want to know why. At least there I had a friend. Here I have no one. I am never going to make another friend again. 

“Isn’t that just the saddest thing you have ever heard?” Jim said with an exaggerated pout. “Let’s read another one so we can cheer up a bit.”

“I would rather you didn’t” a small voice piped up behind Jim. Sherlock tilted his head and saw it was John who had spoke. 

John was looking at the ground and wringing his hand together. He looked pathetic, but somehow Sherlock took pity on him. I might not appreciate humans, but no one need not to bully others. Sherlock could see John was a quiet type, and obviously susceptible to bullying. If it was one thing Sherlock hated most in this stupid world was bullies. 

Jim was already reading another entry in Johns journal when Sherlock directed his attention back towards him. 

 

Diary, you are the only place I feel safe enough to write this in, cause I need to tell someone, or I think I will go crazy.

“This part sounds quite juicy!” Jim exclaimed as he turned back to the page, ignoring Sherlock pointed stare. 

“Please stop,” John whimpered again. 

There is a person in class I fancy, but I am not sure if I should talk to them, or anyone about it. I have never been good with words when I am talking. I seem to be a better writer than talker. I am scared if I tried talking about this, I would make a fool of myself. I was going to talk to my parents, about it, but they definitely wouldn’t understand. I see them in class every day, and have memorised what the back of their head looks like. The way their hair curls just so, the head tilt when they are thinking, and even the act of showing extreme boredom by leaning back against the chair and feigning sleep. 

“I absolutely have to find out who this interesting person is? Don’t you want to know too, Sherlock?” Jim said with a smirk looking between John and Sherlock. 

John looked up for just a moment and met Sherlock’s compassionate gaze. When John quickly looked down again, and his cheeks turned a bright red, it was quickly obvious who this individual was that was being described. 

“Jim, I think we have had enough now.” Sherlock said holding out his hand for the journal. He would prefer not to have this turn into a physical altercation. But of course, it would not be that easy. 

“Like I said before, what are you going to do about it, Sherly?” Jim sneered. 

No one called Sherlock, Sherly except for his late mother, and his elder brother Mycroft when he was being a bastard. 

Sherlock’s fist met with Jim’s face with a resounding thud, and a crack, the likely sound of a breaking nose. 

Jim fell to the ground with a stunned look on his face, blood from his nose and lip beginning to drip down to his white shirt. 

John took in the whole situation with wide eyes. First he looked at Jim laying on the ground, then up at Sherlock who was walking closer to him. 

“What was that for!” Jim yelled wiping the blood from his face, and smearing it on his sleeve. 

Sherlock ignored him, and moved close to John. He leaned in, taking notice of the way John inhaled sharply, and whispered in his ear. “It’s alright. I know. And I am ok with it, if you are.”

Sherlock leaned back and looked at John to gage his reaction. 

Johns forehead was wrinkled in thought for a moment. He glanced over at Jim, who was taking stock of his wounds, and then back up at Sherlock. 

“Why did you do that? You didn’t have to do all that. I had it handled just fine.” John said to Sherlock.  
“I did it, because I hate bullies, and you looked like you could use a bit of assistance.”

Sherlock bent over to pick up the journal where John had dropped it on his way to meet the pavement. He smoothed out the few pages that were bent, and handed it to John. 

John placed the journal in his shoulder bag, and looked back up at Sherlock. 

“What are we going to do now? And should we tell anyone about him?” inquired John, pointing at Jim, who took the opportunity to loudly groan at his discomfort. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Jim. “Well, I think his feet work well enough that he can get himself to the nurse if he so chooses. But then he would have to explain how he came to be in that state. And as for us, we can do whatever you like. I can erase this new data, and move on with my life, or we can do something about it. It is your choice.”

John pondered the options for a second, before walking over to stand side by side with Sherlock. “I would like to do something about it, if that is alright with you.”

In an answer, Sherlock held out his hand, and John accepted it. With that, they walked hand in hand back into the main hall and disregarded all stares that were pointed their way.


End file.
